+2
This is MOSTLY off topic, but I'm bored waiting for files to copy so indulge me, please.
I had a dream ....last night. As I type this I realize how it might seem that I'm starting off by mocking MLK given that Monday was MLK Day. Not at all! Only coincidence Seriously though, I did have a dream last night and I thought I might share what of it I remember.
I was in my room. Bedroom, that is. I assume it must have been a childhood bedroom or something because that was the vibe I got from it. I don't THINK I ever lived in this room, so right off it was foreign but still I recognized it in a way. Who knows, it was a dream. I just didn't know it was a dream at the time.
Wait. Maybe forget the whole bedroom thing. I'll put that into play later. OK!
Scene: a snowy white exterior. Cold. Hills and mountainous terrain surround me. The weather is calm, but overcast. There appears to be random debris scattered for as far as I can see, but in small groupings. For example, I can see what appears to be broken and scattered planks of lumber in a roughly 10'x10' area. Maybe 100 yards from that is another minor mess of other objects. There are few trees, but enough to occasionally block my view and to invite exploration in case something of need might be just out of sight.
This is where I happen to exist. As I walk through the snow, I notice a crowbar under a plank of wood. I take possession in that I really have no idea where I am or how dangerous this environment is. At least I feel that I can maybe defend myself at this point. After slowly scanning the landscape, I notice what looks to be some type of rifle, or maybe a shotgun. I recognize it because it appears to have a faint golden glow radiating from the body of the gun. Strange.
I find another, but unable to carry more I have to sacrifice one weapon for the other. I make my choice and move on.
About this point in my exploration I drift off mentally to another dream. I'm still unaware that I am dreaming so this transition totally makes sense to me. I don't remember what came immediately next, but as time passed I found myself in a light colored bedroom. This is the room I opened with. Now that I think more on it, perhaps it wasn't my bedroom but my grandparents'? They had a large king size bed that I would sleep in when I was little, visiting for the summer. Papa also had a small collection of rifles that were always propped barrel-up in the corner made between the wall and chest of drawers. Yes, my cousins and I would play with them. No, we didn't accidentally shoot each other (thank goodness). Though one or two cousins would NOT be missed, if I'm honest. My grandmother had a large window air conditioning unit that was always on and running cold. Strange how memories reflect.
Now I'm in the bedroom. White sheets are loose and scattered across the mattress. I noticed some objects on the bed. It looks like a few toothpicks have been dropped, or perhaps those wooden tongue depressors used to support frozen fruit treats. A few were broken and lightly scattered. I climb onto the bed and begin to investigate, pulling a sheet overhead slightly to commit myself more to the principle of childish curiosity. On closer inspection, this is not at all a toothpick, but, rather, a tiny riffle. I look deeper into the caverns created by my bed sheet cave and notice another not more than two feet from my current position. It was obscured by a fold in my sheet, but still it had a faint glow about it. I recognized it as the rifle from earlier, when I my dream started. Still, I did not recognize this yet as a dream. But I was confused and my fears began to race unable to make sense of things.
I found the edge of the bed. It was the long edge, closest to the bedroom wall---the edge from which things fall and are forgotten for the required effort to reclaim such things through the narrow gap, too narrow for the elbow and too deep to touch bottom. Looking down into the abyss I see a cable. Odd that this cable should be there as I just purchased it only a few days earlier. Usually such wastelands are reserved for older things. Lesser things. This cable was a supply line to string guitar pedals onto a single power source. Why was this here? Why is there a tiny rifle glowing at my side? And why are there broken wood chips in this bed? Whose bed am I in? The confusion and paranoia began to overwhelm me. Then... I woke.
Wtf? I haven't even played The Long Dark since before Christmas! And even then, it wasn't for very long.